Allison Brennan - Carnal Sin

A LSO BY A LLISON B RENNAN

Original Sin

Sudden Death
Fatal Secrets
Cutting Edge

Killing Fear
Tempting Evil
Playing Dead

Speak No Evil
See No Evil
Fear No Evil

The Prey
The Hunt
The Kill

For the amazing writers
who share Murdershewrites.com ,
as we celebrate five years on the Web

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Though writing is a solitary profession, writers often seek out others for help and guidance. I have been blessed with many people willing to share their knowledge to help me write the best book possible.

First and foremost, my editor, Charlotte Herscher, who always sees the big picture when I'm immersed in the details. Without Charlotte my books would certainly suffer. The rest of the Ballantine team have been hugely supportive and I appreciate each and every one. And of course my agent, Kim Whalen. I wouldn't be here without her!

Special thanks go to CJ Lyons, doctor and author, who patiently walked me through how the brain works and didn't think I was crazy for wanting a scientific explanation to support supernatural deaths; Wally Lind with Crime Scene Writers for always taking the time to answer the most arcane questions I have; LAPD Officer Kathy Bennett, a fellow writer, who went above and beyond to help with the details related to Los Angeles and the LAPD; L.A. County Coroner's Office, especially Chief Coroner Investigator & CO Craig Harvey, for information specific to the L.A. morgue: I may have stretched a few truths for story purposes, but hope I didn't break anything important!

Major appreciation for my husband, Dan, who not only helped immensely with setting details, but tolerated my odd hours with minimal fuss; my kids for keeping me grounded in what's really important--sports, reading, video games, and Buffy reruns; and my mom for her never-ending support.

And where would any of us be without emotional support? I owe my pals big-time for their support this past year, in particular Toni McGee Causey, Roxanne St. Claire, and Karin Tabke. You are all incredible women I greatly admire. You listen, offer advice, commiserate, celebrate with me, and motivate me to get back to work when I slack off. Without you, I don't think I would have made it through this book in one piece. I love you all.

Contents

PROLOGUE

One Week Ago

Kent Galion had it bad for the blonde.

With dark, sultry eyes she stared back at him down her long, elegant nose. And when she passed with a tray of drinks for the rowdy frat boys in the corner, she purposely brushed against him. He'd been watching her all night and they'd shared the secret look, eyes that whispered I want you .

What woman wouldn't want Kent Galion? When he was labeled one of Los Angeles's ten most eligible bachelors, they commented on his Midas touch and GQ good looks. At forty, he was fit and in his prime. He owned this club and more, the king of the West Side. Any of the staff would serve him in his bed or theirs, and often made that clear, but he rarely took any of them up on their offers. Two years ago he'd dated a sexy cocktail waitress, and that had ended up in a long-term business relationship. He still didn't know why he'd let his dick lead him down that hazardous road--he'd put up most of the risk, but they were in business fifty/fifty. At least Wendy handled the day-to-day management that he detested. The arrangement had been a sore point between him and his younger brother, but Marcus had always been stuffy and conservative.

Kent glanced around the dark, trendy club but didn't see Wendy. Where was she? She'd be able to satisfy this deep craving he had; there was nothing she said no to.

He'd always enjoyed women, but just lately his sexual appetite had been insatiable. It was like the good old days of being bad. He'd been hungering in ways he used to before he had responsibilities and a business empire to run. Still, he'd managed to resist the girls at the club until it had become impossible to avoid them. Two nights ago ...

Sweat broke out on his forehead. He blocked the memory from his mind, certain it wasn't as bad as he remembered. He'd tried calling Stephanie the morning after, but she wouldn't answer her cell. And she hadn't come in to work today. Maybe it was her night off. He didn't concern himself with the staff schedule.

"Who's the new girl?" Kent asked the bartender. He sipped his customary club soda and lime. Kent didn't drink; alcohol made smart men stupid.

Ike glanced at the curvy blonde Kent had been coveting all night.

"Rachel Prince. She's been here a couple months."

Kent hadn't seen her before, but then again he usually did the rounds only once a month. For some reason, this week he couldn't seem to stay away from Velocity, his newest and most successful club.

Rachel smiled at Kent as she walked by on her way to the cash register. Ike leaned over. "She's the type who'd love your money," he warned.

"I like her ass."

"Just saying."

Kent had dealt with plenty of women who'd slept with him to get at his money. He'd had a vasectomy five years ago, so no one could trap him that way--he already had an ex-wife and two kids he paid plenty for. Fortunately, they were on the East Coast and he didn't have to deal with them except to write a check every month. His ex had remarried, and the new guy was better than Kent had been at all that domestic bullshit.

Of course Rachel Prince wanted him. He was rich, and he owned the place where she worked. She would be grateful for his attention and would express that gratitude on her back, on her stomach, on her knees--any way he wanted it. His dick hardened and he shifted on the stool to relieve the pressure. It didn't help.

Kent waited until Rachel took a break, then he walked to the back of the club and found her alone in the employee break room. Velocity staff had classy outfits--the females wore sexy black dresses that hinted at everything but showed nothing except a little cleavage. On Rachel, the short skirt revealed long, perfectly curved legs.

"Hello, Rachel," he said. He could still feel the dance music's beat throbbing from the front of the club.

"Hi, Mr. Galion."

"Kent."

She smiled, her brown eyes assessing him. She licked her painted red lips.

He'd come in here with the intention of asking her to come home with him tonight. But seeing her like this, alone, staring at him with blatant lust, she might as well have been wearing a sign that said FUCK ME NOW .

Kent broke out in a sweat. He stepped toward her. She stepped back. That irritated him. "Come here," he said.

"I only have ten minutes. You shouldn't be back here."

"I own this place."

"But this is the girls' dressing room."

He turned and locked the door. "I saw you looking at me."

"I--I didn't mean to."

Why was she acting nervous? This was all set up earlier when their eyes first met, silently agreeing to rough-and-ready sex. The thought that he'd have to wait to satisfy this burning pained him. His head ached. He didn't want to wait; no dancing around the table in the ridiculous game women insisted on playing. It would happen here; it would happen now.

He moved fast and grabbed her, harder than he meant to. "You agreed."

"I don't know what you mean. Let me go. Please." She wasn't shouting or pushing him away. They were just words; they meant nothing.

He kissed her neck, one hand squeezing her breast. She tensed, and he pushed her against the wall. "I need you," he whispered. He sucked her neck, remembering being a horny teenager giving hickies to every girl he screwed. He'd branded them, shown everyone the sluts they were.